Oasis
by Surreptitious Chi X
Summary: One-shot. When a wild magic zone causes all of Jarlaxle's enchantments against the sun to fail, Entreri must assist his new companion; however, the assistance quickly takes an unexpected turn as their feelings for each other become clear. *Part 2 up
1. Chapter 1

**Oasis**

A Post _Servant of the Shard_ AU Tale

* * *

After one year it was still too soon to risk returning to the city of Calimport. But Entreri grew restive during their world travels, and Jarlaxle knew it must be from the desire to see his home nation again. The drow mercenary did not think he would ever wish to see the Underdark again even if he were on the Surface for centuries. But that was where he and Artemis Entretri were different. Rather than be annoyed he simply found a job that required them to return to Calimshan. Aside from a momentary look of surprise and relief, Entreri did not react to Jarlaxle's decision, and Jarlaxle had learned not to press or make uncomfortable comments. Their partnership had slowly achieved a quietude built on mutual courtesy.

The job didn't touch on any of their previous failures or troubles, so Jarlaxle considered it a good fit. On the behalf of a young nobleman wishing to be married, they traveled to a monastery deep in the Calim Desert that held the oldest lineage records in the nation. Their purpose was to verify the good breeding of the bride-to-be. No magical artifacts. No dragons. All they had to do was get the monks to copy their records into a fresh scroll and take the scroll back to the waiting nobleman.

Jarlaxle even considered this job too easy for the gold it brought them. Until, that is, they stepped off the trade road and into the desert.

For three days they had been in search of the monastery. Three days off the trade road, three days trekking steadily deeper into the Calimshan Desert, three days of sweltering sun, freezing nights, enraged Bedouin raiders. This, the fourth day, was the worst of all. The Bedouin had deserted them early this afternoon, leaving them to trudge across the sand without even the company of enemies. When the sun became unbearably hot, Entreri pulled out his tent only to find the model would not grow, indicating a dead or wild magic zone.

"The sooner we reach the monastery the sooner we will be out of the sun," Jarlaxle said.

"We can continue," Entreri agreed, "but _only_ as long as we don't get in a hurry. We can't keep the same pace we've been using now that we can't recover in my tent. Also, you need to remember to supplement your water with a spoonful of salt and sugar." He sighed, wishing they still had their camels, but the raiders had made off with them during an earlier fight. Not that Jarlaxle would miss their 'bumpy gait', as he called it.

Jarlaxle nodded. He did that now, taking a long drink and swallowing the salt and sugar, doled out from belt pouches. Entreri had already explained long drinks were more effective than sipping.

Once the assassin did the same, they resumed walking.

For an hour, Entreri said nothing, not wanting to lose hydration through his mouth. For this trip, he had put away his leathers, which were not suitable for desert travel, and covered himself in cloth instead. He'd done his best to shade his eyes, but the glare was still extreme. There was no helping it, however. Their goal was the monastery, and crossing the desert was the only way there.

Jarlaxle kept his head down as much as possible, but the glare from the sand stung his eyes. If they didn't reach the monastery soon he would be blind. He knew they had likely walked into a dead magic zone, but he couldn't afford to alert Entreri. If Entreri knew he was useless and would only slow the assassin down...

There was no use contemplating that. Besides, the dead magic zone might be over soon.

Another hour passed. The sand dunes were endless hills, each one a hump like a dragon's back. The illusion of water appeared and disappeared before Entreri, the sun baking him through, hot wind whipping around his head and shoulders. These were the days he was glad to have dark skin, glad to have learned desert survival early in life, glad to know eyes could play tricks.

Rumor held that an oasis awaited the pious who made their way to the monastery. When Entreri topped the next dune, compass in hand, verifying they remained on track, the world that sprung to life below him had palm trees. Between wind-tossed leaves shone the glimmer of real water. "There," he finally said, his voice thick and rough from dehydrated disuse.

Jarlaxle paused. Though he'd tried his best to preserve his eye sight by closing his eyes against the sun when Entreri wasn't observing him, it hadn't worked. For the last twenty minutes at least he'd been reduced to following the sound of his companion rather than the sight. Entreri's enigmatic statement tripped him up. "Where? What?"

Entreri glanced at him, frowning. Jarlaxle was basically facing the correct direction. "Down there," he said, pointing. Testing. He well knew drow eyes were sensitive to light, and he found himself suspicious that Jarlaxle had been blinded.

Jarlaxle came up to Entreri's side, keeping his body language casual. He knew there was no danger, so they were at the monastery or some other landmark of interest. "Ah." He smiled.

Entreri's instincts nudged him, telling him it was an act; however, he didn't push. If Jarlaxle needed treatment, it could be done at the oasis. "It's probably half a mile." Another thirty minutes at their rate. "What does your body tell you? Does it need more sugar and salt?"

Jarlaxle nodded. He detached his canteen from his belt and took the cap off by touch, adding the appropriate ingredients to his mouthful of water with the surety of habit. Then he capped his canteen and put it back. He was proud of his dexterity. Given Entreri hadn't actually told him what was half a mile ahead, he said, "I will be glad to be there."

Entreri noted the vague commentary. "Agreed." He headed down the slope, sand sliding faintly under his soles, trickling downward but not stirring up any signs of life. A stronger gust of wind, hot and dry, bludgeoned him. The bareness of this magically-created desert – its dryness, its relative lack of oases – was the greater threat than the heat.

Jarlaxle kept up the best that he could without wandering too far away or too close to his companion. Still, he had the sensation he was weaving.

Entreri was once again silent, and the drow mercenary followed that lead.

By the time Entreri reached the oasis, he was numb. Feet numb, mind numb. The smell of water – could he ever really describe it? – stood out on the harsh breeze. The coolness reached out to him like the arms of Sirens. He headed right into the thickest, densest spot, sheltered by impatiently crowding palm trees, and plopped down with a sigh.

Jarlaxle struggled to follow and tripped over the assassin. He fell with an undignified noise.

Entreri jerked faintly, having not expected that, and came to his knees, grasping Jarlaxle and pulling him back against a tree trunk to rest. "You are blinded by the sunlight," he said. Fact, not question.

Jarlaxle panicked. In his panic he froze, trying to wait for the wave of fear to pass so he could think. They were at an oasis and not at the monastery. Would Entreri leave him here? He couldn't afford to be separated from the assassin. Entreri knew how to stay safe in a desert, not him.

He didn't dare speak. Anything he said could be the wrong thing.

Entreri sensed the tension roiling off him. "It is temporary," he assured him. "Even without a healer." He pulled a strip of bandages from one of his pouches. "You should have told me." Cranky. "I could have bound your eyes sooner." He dipped the bandages in the water – merely for the sake of comfort and cooling – and the knelt by Jarlaxle. "Remove your hat. It will easier for me to get the bandages on that way."

"Bandages?" Jarlaxle whispered. He removed his hat slowly. His hand shook.

"Yes." Entreri pressed the beginning of the roll against Jarlaxle's left temple and held it in place with two fingers as he made his first pass. "Sun blindness requires rest in darkness. We don't have darkness, so we wrap your head, bind your eyes. Your eyes will heal with time, even if the priests refuse to help you." He made another pass, then another, until Jarlaxle's eyes were well-covered.

Jarlaxle flinched initially against the wetness and coolness striking against the heat of his face. But he relaxed into the feeling. He was silent. There weren't words for the gentleness of Entreri's fingers.

When the assassin finished, Jarlaxle reached up and touched the bandages tentatively, feeling. Strange emotions churned inside him. No one had ever done something to help him without demanding something in return. No one had ever done anything to lessen his pain without being asked. He jolted himself out of his preoccupation and put his hat back on.

"Are you going to leave me here and go on to the monastery?" Jarlaxle whispered. He wouldn't, shouldn't ask, but the gesture of the bandages gave him hope.

Perhaps Entreri would not leave him behind to fend for himself.

"That would be unwise." Entreri settled beside him. "We cannot know who visits this oasis, but likely it is not anyone who would want to find a drow. And if it were just animals, some will see you as prey. You will have to stay with me."

Jarlaxle grabbed Entreri's arm tightly. He couldn't speak. His throat was closed up. The assassin spoke as if it were not an everyday occurrence that an injured ally were left behind and forced to fight for his life. But that was all he had ever known. Artemis Entreri called himself a loner, claimed not to see the point of a partner, and yet Artemis Entreri would not leave his side?

All the times he'd ever wished not to be abandoned briefly flashed before Jarlaxle, making his breaths come quicker. Pain that he had thought was long gone twisted in his stomach.

For as long as Jarlaxle could remember, loyalty had been a calculation. He had never realized that it was also an emotion. He _felt_ it. His chest ached with the want for Entreri's loyalty to continue and with the want to return this loyalty.

All Jarlaxle could do to convey that was repeatedly squeeze Entreri's arm.

Something passed from Jarlaxle to Entreri in that moment, and Entreri could feel it burning in his chest. "Jarlaxle..." His voice was softer than any other living being had ever heard. It was not the voice of an assassin. For once it was the voice of a man. The man slipped his arm around the blinded drow. "We will survive." His best offer of comfort.

"We?" Jarlaxle grasped at that pronoun desperately. He wished he could see what was happening, what face went with that voice. If he hadn't known the timbre of it so well he would have thought someone else had entered the oasis in Entreri's place.

Was Entreri's arm really around him? The feeling was intense but surreal.

Entreri paused, the feeling flowing out of Jarlaxle and into him burning hotter for a moment. Such a strange sensation. Had he felt this before? When he was young? Was it not this thing he'd killed and buried in the sand? "We," he confirmed. Their sides touched. "This is a partnership. There can be no mutual benefit if one of us is dead."

Questions threatened to pour out of Jarlaxle. _How can I benefit you when I'm blind? How can you trust that I'll ever see again? How can you stay when I lied and didn't tell you I was blind? What kind of partnership means making sacrifices to protect someone who's injured? Why do you care if I'm alive tomorrow?_ The force of holding the questions back made Jarlaxle tremble.

Artemis Entreri's behavior threw into sharp relief the behavior of everyone Jarlaxle had known, providing a strange and frightening contrast. Were they wrong to deny him this kind of support? Was he wrong to emulate their example? Were there more people who believed as Entreri did?

If he wasn't going to be left behind when he made mistakes, did that mean it was safe to stay with Entreri even when Entreri made mistakes?

Entreri wasn't sure what to make of the trembling, but he did suspect that it had been a long time – if ever – since Jarlaxle had been this vulnerable. In Jarlaxle's place, Entreri would have expected to be betrayed. Possibly killed. He didn't think Jarlaxle was afraid, because it wasn't fear he sensed, but he did suspect that he was overwhelmed in some way.

For a moment, he wondered why he was comforting Jarlaxle. Why he felt…protective, actually, now that he considered it.

His body caught up with him a few beats later, telling him how nice Jarlaxle felt against his side, how lithe his body was against the curve of his arm.

Entreri wanted to curse.

But it was what it was, and Entreri rarely ignored what his body told him. He might push past it, but he didn't ignore it. So he swallowed a sigh and relaxed against his own tree trunk, keeping Jarlaxle tucked against him. A little stolen touch, perhaps. Maybe. If Jarlaxle allowed it.

Jarlaxle didn't understand what was going on. No one had ever tucked him against them like this. It wouldn't matter if he could see. In this moment, he was lost. But it was definitely a friendly gesture, and he liked the feeling of Entreri's body against his. That Entreri hadn't wanted to kill him, much less wanted to touch him, put him far outside his experience. When the assassin made no attempt to move or speak, Jarlaxle relaxed against Entreri. Partners. What did that mean to humans?

For the first time in a long time, Entreri found a tiny smile hovering on his lips. Jarlaxle relaxing against him gave his body a faint stirring, a tingling. Impulse control suddenly got harder, but Entreri fought hard to stay still.

He failed.

Too long. It had been too long since a touch like this. He gave Jarlaxle's side a single, soft stroke.

Jarlaxle rested his head against Entreri's shoulder, shocked at the wave of comfort that traveled through him at the assassin's soft touch. He couldn't remember ever being touched like this. Part of his mind insisted he needed to be on guard, but the rest of him was focused on the sensation of Entreri's hand, aching for Entreri to do it again.

A wave of longing swelled in Entreri. By the gods, it had been forever. He wanted desperately to kiss Jarlaxle then. Just the feeling of Jarlaxle's head on his shoulder was overwhelming, and his breath caught in his chest with the burning need of it, which passed down his torso and into his groin to tingle. He took a careful, shallow breath and caressed Jarlaxle's side again.

Jarlaxle melted. The ached-for touch had happened, inexplicably, improbably. A half-formed desire to climb into Entreri's lap was discarded. For all he knew, if he moved this would end, and Entreri would pretend it had never happened. He suddenly registered the deep irony of desperately wanting to be touched after mentally shuddering away from touch for most of his life. But those other touches were nothing like this touch. He hadn't known this existed. If he had, he would have devoted his life to getting more of this.

He dared to slip his arm around Entreri by degrees, ready to stop the instant he received any response that could possibly be negative.

That added touch was far too much. Entreri's heart lodged in his throat – that kind of nervous desire one has when facing first-time sex. Why he should feel it now was a mystery, except perhaps that Jarlaxle might react with violence – perhaps stab him on the spot – for his next move. But a lifetime's worth of self-control slipped right through his fingers, and he found his fingers instead on Jarlaxle's chin, tilting up his face, lips traveling slowly downward from the bandage, their target destination obvious.

Jarlaxle felt like he was caught in a dream. Delirious in the sun, perhaps. The slow, gentle movements, the sound of Entreri's breath. The touch of Entreri's hands, unbelievably careful. His lips parted of their own accord.

The surge of arousal at Jarlaxle's response made Entreri's body throb. His lips found Jarlaxle's, mouthing them, a moan escaping him before he could stop it. He pulled Jarlaxle toward him, shifted toward him as well, closing the distance, sucking Jarlaxle's bottom lip. His hand slipped behind Jarlaxle's neck, cupping and supporting.

Jarlaxle straddled Entreri's lap. The position made him aware of his hardness. He gasped and moaned softly around the kiss, tilted his head back into Entreri's supporting hand at the gentle sucking of his bottom lip. He didn't understand why this was happening, and only understood part of what was happening, but unlike most things he'd felt in his life, this felt good. So he wanted it to continue.

Jarlaxle climbing on top of him made Entreri almost painfully hard. He sank into the kiss, letting it carry him away, and slipped his tongue past Jarlaxle's soft lips. He caressed Jarlaxle's tongue, the warm sensation removing him entirely from this time and place, leaving him somewhere isolated, quiet, pleasant. His fingers kneaded the back of Jarlaxle's neck.

The feeling of Entreri's tongue caressing his was also unbelievably gentle. Jarlaxle let his breath escape in a moan, growing bolder in expressing his enjoyment. Entreri tasted faintly sweet and salty, no doubt from the addition of sugar and salt to the water they'd been drinking.

The moan sent shivers through Entreri, and he tightened his arm around Jarlaxle's waist. He had no way to say 'You are safe,' so he telegraphed it. Had no way to say 'You are wanted,' so he acted it out. And, since his body had sneaked up on him concerning his attraction to Jarlaxle, he had no recourse but to accept or deny. Acceptance led him deeper and deeper into the kiss, drawing Jarlaxle's tongue into his mouth and sucking on it.

"Mm...mmm..." Jarlaxle wound his arms around Entreri tightly, clinging. He hadn't ever experienced a kiss that didn't devolve into biting. Arousal cracked through him at the way Entreri sucked on his tongue. Like everything else the assassin had done, this was gentle. He couldn't form a picture of what was going to happen next. Somehow he couldn't believe Entreri would overpower him and bind him to the tree, or tie him hand and foot, or any of the other kinds of restraint he'd come to expect from being in the weaker position.

And, in fact, none of those things occurred. Instead, Entreri's hand found the back of his shirt and worked its way underneath the cloth to stroke the drow's bare skin. The other hand came to rest upon Jarlaxle's thigh, kneading. Entreri pressed them chest to chest, essentially drinking in the sensation of Jarlaxle's touch and body, skin and warmth. He luxuriated in the feeling of Jarlaxle's tongue in his mouth for a moment more, then resumed exploring Jarlaxle's mouth.

Jarlaxle panted and shivered, his head spinning from all the pleasurable touches going on at once. Entreri held him close without hurting him, kissed without trying to subdue him. His hands flexed on Entreri's back.

The signs of pleasure drew Entreri further into this miniature world they were creating. He slipped both hands up the back of Jarlaxle's shirt, reaching all the way up his shoulders before caressing downward. His lips finally broke contact with Jarlaxle's, kissing over his jaw and trailing down the slope of his neck.

Jarlaxle had no idea what was happening now. Entreri's soft lips were suddenly at his neck, and both hands were caressing his back. If Jarlaxle hadn't known vampires would disintegrate under these conditions, he would have thought Entreri was one and it was feeding time. Instead, all he felt was Entreri's warm, harmless mouth massaging his neck, and gentle hands doing the same to his back. He moaned and arched, tipping his head back.

The arching of Jarlaxle's back caused another wave of arousal within Entreri, and he responded to it by caressing one hand down and over Jarlaxle's bottom, cupping and kneading it. The other continued stroking Jarlaxle's bare back. He mouthed and sucked Jarlaxle's soft skin, picking up a trace taste of salt, his lips lingering as he drank in the new sensations.

The feeling of Entreri's touch was undeniably sexual, but it was unfamiliar. No one had ever touched his bottom that way. However, Jarlaxle found that he wasn't afraid. He found himself wondering languidly if this was human foreplay. If so, how would they have sex in such sandy surroundings? That would seem to pose a difficulty.

And, again, there was a lack of mental picture. He tentatively trusted that Entreri would not abruptly switch to roughly stripping him, would not slap or whip him, would not force him to give pleasure with his mouth. It was Entreri who seemed fascinated with doing that, and in the strangest places.

Jarlaxle continued to moan and press into the touches. While he could speak if he wanted to, he didn't want to do anything to break the atmosphere of calmness around them.

Entreri shifted faintly, his erection twitching and throbbing at the sound of Jarlaxle's moans and the way he pressed into his touch. He switched directions, kissing his way up Jarlaxle's neck to his ear, sucking on his earlobe - earrings and all - and then licking upward to the point.

Jarlaxle sucked in his breath in a gasp when Entreri's mouth touched his ear. Tingles shot through him. Even with the piercings, his ears were extraordinarily sensitive. He jerked and cried out, bucking against Entreri when the assassin's mouth reached the tip of his ear. Normally the pleasure was drowned out by all the pain and discomfort of everything else that was going on at the same time. The unfiltered bliss was almost too much.

At the sharpness of Jarlaxle's response, Entreri felt desire, but he also pulled back for a moment, not wanting to overwhelm. Perhaps elven ears were extremely sensitive. After a beat, he closed his mouth over the tip, sucking gently and then flicking with his tongue.

Jarlaxle shivered and squirmed, moans spilling from his lips. A wave of sensitivity swept through him, making him feel how hard his nipples were, how wet he'd become, how he throbbed. He had no way to handle such undiluted pleasure. "Artemis. Art-Artemis!" The next shiver went through his hips, and he bit his lip with a whine.

Entreri moaned against his ear, flicking his tongue down into the shell and then sucking on the tip again. One hand squeezed Jarlaxle's bottom, pressing his hips into Entreri's. He could feel Jarlaxle's hardness against him, and when combined with the drow's shiver and squirm, it seemed deeply erotic. His other hand traced down Jarlaxle's spine.

Jarlaxle cried out breathlessly and rocked his hips against Entreri's, unable to hold himself back at the way Entreri pressed them together. He clung to Entreri tightly.

Entreri pulled back an inch. "You don't have to do that," he whispered against Jarlaxle's ear. "I'll touch you, if you wish it." There was no way to explain to Jarlaxle how rare this offer was. No way to explain that Entreri only took a male lover perhaps once a decade, and that he was enormously picky about said male on the few occasions that he did.

Jarlaxle was stunned for an entirely different reason. Any pleasure he received from being with someone had always been his own responsibility. He stilled himself at the assassin's soft words, self-conscious at how hot and needy he felt. Instinctive trepidation delayed his answer. Hundreds of encounters had taught him that anyone offering pleasure wanted to use him, to hurt him. But Entreri's hands were so gentle. Entreri's hands had covered his eyes for him.

He nodded slowly.

"Let's turn you around, then," Entreri said, his hands going to Jarlaxle's tiny waist to help. "Sit on my lap facing the other direction."

The assassin's gentle voice threw Jarlaxle off guard and coaxed him to give his trust. He accepted Entreri's help to turn and sit in the other direction. Jarlaxle knew he couldn't see anyway, but this position struck him as being much more vulnerable than the way he had been sitting before. At the same time his body ached for Entreri's touches to continue.

Entreri's fingers relocated to Jarlaxle's belt, undoing the buckle and button. Meanwhile, he pressed a few kisses to the back of Jarlaxle's neck, enjoying the feeling of the silky, warm skin.

Jarlaxle gasped and trembled, as much from the feeling of his belt being loosened as from the kisses. His trapped erection throbbed almost painfully. Fear and trust fought each other. He couldn't think of a reason for such an elaborate setup to a betrayal, and he told himself that Artemis Entreri was different. Even if that weren't the case, he was different. He had come a long way. He had learned so much, done so much. If this were an elaborate lie, then he could fight.

He'd never wanted something to be real so much.

Entreri managed to peel down the breeches enough to expose Jarlaxle, and for a moment, he simply took in the sight: ebony skin taut over such swollenness. He reached out, brushing gentle fingers over the glistening tip, and feeling the dampness and heat, experienced another surge of arousal. He wrapped his fingers around Jarlaxle lightly, giving him a long, slow stroke.

Jarlaxle sucked in his breath at being exposed. He licked his lips, trying to steady himself. Then gentle, almost tentative fingers touched him, and he let out a low moan. A shiver ran down his spine and through his hips. He didn't think anyone had ever touched him this way. At the long, slow, gentle stroke, Jarlaxle bowed his head and relaxed. Entreri seemed to be exploring him with a kind of fascination. Almost as if he were in some way unfamiliar to the assassin.

It felt very good. Jarlaxle hummed in appreciation.

Entreri matched the hum, a thrill shooting through him from Jarlaxle's obvious pleasure. He tightened his grip slightly, stroking, pumping, pausing only to run his palm over Jarlaxle's slick tip. His lips found the back of Jarlaxle's neck again, mouthing and sucking.

Jarlaxle moaned louder. His hands went limp at his sides. Entreri's strong, gentle hand touched him more exquisitely than he had ever touched himself. The feeling of Entreri's mouth against his neck again mingled pleasantly, his body awash with bliss. He didn't want this to end.

Entreri once again lost himself in the sensations, sucking upon Jarlaxle's neck and stroking his erection. His lips found their way back upward to Jarlaxle's ear, which he gave a long, slow lick. At the same time, he tightened his grip again, slightly – just enough to generate more friction.

The tingling pleasure at Jarlaxle's ear and the increased pressure on his erection made him press into the touches with a deep moan. He sank into this feeling, forgetting where they were, knowing only the comfort and pleasure of Entreri's touch.

"Yes," Entreri whispered against his ear, his own erection tingling and throbbing from the sound of Jarlaxle's moan and the way he pressed against him. "Yes..." He lapped at the tip of Jarlaxle's ear, then sucked it into his mouth again. He also ran his palm over the tip of Jarlaxle's erection at the same time before resuming the stroking.

A thrill went through Jarlaxle at being talked to this way, and he felt himself helplessly leaking. He let out a long moan. The hot pleasure that had seemed so overwhelming at first now seemed acceptable, even good. With Entreri encouraging it, it was.

The extra dampness made Entreri's heart pound in his chest. Jarlaxle seemed truly erotic in this moment, and he moaned on his ear. "Yes," he whispered again. "Good..." He lapped Jarlaxle's ear, cherishing the sharp, graceful arch and the pointed tip. He sped up his hand, shortening the strokes, matching his movements to his inner passion.

"Ah..." Jarlaxle arched, shamelessly responding to the pounding heat Entreri inspired in him. For this instant, all of his previous experiences were blotted out. Entreri's words buzzed in his head, the soft mouth and gentle hand completely enveloping his senses. His climax rushed through him, crashing and consuming with unaccustomed freedom.

Entreri dug a handkerchief out of his pouch, cleaning up the mess, then wrapped his arms around Jarlaxle's waist, just letting himself exist in this moment. Very few moments seemed perfect to him, and since this one did, he didn't want to let it go.

Jarlaxle felt dazed and tired, but he hadn't taken leave of his senses to the point that he didn't feel the assassin embracing him. Being embraced after finishing was so far outside his experience that part of him couldn't comprehend it. It didn't seem real to be rewarded for coming to the end of his sexual endurance. Nor did it seem real that Artemis Entreri had coaxed him there with purposeful ministrations.

He didn't know whether this could ever happen again, but he wanted it to. This was already a poignant memory and he was still in the moment. Nothing would ever be like this.

Jarlaxle found himself running his hands over Entreri's arms, feeling where they encircled him.

Entreri pressed a kiss to Jarlaxle's neck at the junction to his shoulder. "You are quite sensual," he murmured. Again, there was no way for Jarlaxle to know how rare such compliments were coming from him, but he felt compelled to give one, nonetheless.

Jarlaxle tilted his head with a soft sound, allowing Entreri to get a better angle. The tone of the assassin's voice was approving, but he didn't know what 'sensual' meant. Not exactly. He repeated the word softly, tasting it. "Sensual..."

Entreri had stretched himself far enough to give the compliment at all, so he didn't clarify or explain despite Jarlaxle's wondering tone. He just pressed a second kiss to Jarlaxle's neck.

Jarlaxle turned his head, hoping that he aimed his smile in roughly the right direction. "You are gentle and...merciful. Do you wish for something?"

Entreri was surprised at the description, but after a moment, he realized that Jarlaxle's previous experiences had likely been rough, dangerous, and violent. "A similar touch to what I gave you."

"I can do that. I will." Jarlaxle contemplated how it would feel to hold Entreri in his arms, to be allowed to touch gently. He felt a warm stirring in his stomach. It wasn't arousal, but it felt good.

Entreri helped to right Jarlaxle's clothing, then carefully switched places with him, reclining against Jarlaxle's chest. It had been a long time, indeed, since he'd let a male touch him this way.

Jarlaxle stroked Entreri's sides with wonder. The assassin seemed smaller in his felt sense than when he could see his partner. He traced Entreri's neck, shoulders, and arms, feeling a slender form and wiry muscles.

Entreri relaxed under the exploratory touches. Jarlaxle seemed curious about him, about his body. This he considered a good thing. The added anticipation wasn't bad, either, although he looked forward to feeling Jarlaxle's hands on his bare skin.

Jarlaxle leaned forward carefully and pressed his lips to the back of Entreri's neck. He mouthed experimentally. It wasn't unpleasant. In fact, the assassin's skin here was soft. He nuzzled it.

A faint shiver washed through Entreri, followed by goosebumps. Not everyone could get a reaction out of him, but he had still figured out over the years that the back of his neck was sensitive. He found feel his already-throbbing erection straining in his breeches.

"It's all right," Jarlaxle whispered. He hesitantly kissed his way to the shell of Entreri's ear, though he knew human ears couldn't be as sensitive as his. "I will give you what you gave me."

His hands traced Entreri's sides and went lower, feeling out Entreri's hips, the curve of the tops of Entreri's thighs.

Little shots of goosebumps raced down Entreri's arms, eliciting another shiver, and he shifted faintly as Jarlaxle's hands dipped lower. A small part of him whispered of fear, afraid to be vulnerable, but he felt that his trust in Jarlaxle – at least in this moment – was not misplaced.

Jarlaxle nuzzled Entreri's ear. "You didn't leave me here to die," he whispered so softly that only the proximity carried his words to the assassin. He could feel that Entreri wasn't relaxed, but he hadn't been either. He gently stroked over Entreri's abdomen, and then, finally, lower. He felt the hard outline of Entreri's trapped erection. That caused an unexpected jolt in his chest.

A faint moan escaped Entreri as Jarlaxle's hand touched him through his breeches. He was almost too distracted to take note of Jarlaxle's words, but they registered belatedly. "We're partners," he murmured, as it was his only explanation, his only defense. He was well aware that in his world – their world – that could have little or no meaning. But Dwahvel had helped him see things differently.

Jarlaxle nuzzled his neck and shoulder. "I like being partners with you." He stroked Entreri slowly through the assassin's breeches. With his other hand, he felt his way through the folds of Entreri's clothing at the front and stroked the top of Entreri's chest.

Entreri's hips reacted instinctively, arching up into the touch. His nipples hardened at the touch to his bare chest, clearly hoping to receive touch as well. So far, Jarlaxle was being equally considerate, which Entreri took as a good sign.

His partner's reaction stole Jarlaxle's breath. He gave Entreri's neck a slow lick and let his hand slide further down Entreri's chest. At the same time, he felt out Entreri's belt and unbuckled it, his fingers reassuringly nimble even without sight. "You are beautiful," Jarlaxle murmured huskily.

Entreri felt heat flood his cheeks at the compliment, and he was so unused to such a reaction that he was rendered speechless. His body competed for its needs, the skin of his neck tingling, his nipples aching, and his erection throbbing. He hardly knew where to direct Jarlaxle's attention. But, in the end, he didn't provide any direction at all. He wanted to see what Jarlaxle would do, wanted to allow the drow to be curious and explore.

"Are these...hot?" Jarlaxle splayed his fingers over one side of Entreri's chest, feeling for and finding a pert nipple. It wasn't exactly like a female's. Its shape was different. That helped him stay in the present moment. He traced Entreri's nipple gently. With his other hand, he found the button keeping Entreri's breeches closed and unfastened it.

Entreri's breath caught in his throat. The word choice seemed odd for a moment, but Jarlaxle clearly had the right idea. His back bowed faintly, pressing his nipple into the touch, and he felt himself leaking as his breeches came undone. "Jarlaxle..."

"Yes," Jarlaxle whispered. He decided he liked that word. He slipped his fingers through the folds of Entreri's breeches and traced Entreri's erection. It was hot and wet. "Mmm..." He rubbed Entreri's nipple with his other hand, gently teasing.

A sharp gasp met these two actions, and Entreri's head thunked back onto Jarlaxle's shoulder. His erection and nipple both burned with the pleasure, which seemed so intense for once that his head buzzed with it. One hand found the side of Jarlaxle's thigh and squeezed.

Jarlaxle kissed his ear and continued rubbing Entreri's nipple. As he gently freed the assassin's erection, he switched to the other nipple, faintly moaning. "You are good. Your pleasure is good."

Jarlaxle's moan enabled Entreri to moan, the sound almost seeming contagious. Jarlaxle's voice was both encouraging and soothing, and Entreri squeezed the drow's thigh again as another sharp spike of pleasure shot through him. He didn't think he had been this wet, this sensitized, in a long time.

The assassin's moan vibrated through Jarlaxle's chest. A hum escaped him as he ran his hand over the tip of Entreri's erection. The hot, slick wetness of it delighted him and filled him with the need to coax his partner's pleasure higher. With his other hand he rolled Entreri's nipples gently, kneading with his fingertips. He abruptly remembered Entreri's neck and left a trail of sucking, mouthing kisses. His hand on Entreri's erection started slowly stroking of its own accord, falling into a familiar rhythm.

Entreri's lower back bowed with the impact of all the pleasure, which seemed far more intense than usual. Somehow, having Jarlaxle essentially blindfolded helped him to relax, let go, and enjoy. He gasped again, feeling himself leaking more as the pleasure grew. Both hands found Jarlaxle's thighs, squeezing in a silent show of his pleasure.

The trust Entreri placed in him loosened Jarlaxle's tongue further. He didn't know how to acknowledge what was happening directly, but he had to show he understood the gravity of this situation. "Artemis, no one ever showed me kindness. No mercy. I...I did not know what it felt like." He stroked his partner a little faster, panting softly against Entreri's neck. Usually he wasn't invested in what he did with others sexually; he did it because he had to and he did a good job only because it kept him safe. This was different. His face was hot with a vicarious flush.

In any other situation, Entreri would have found the words bizarre for the situation, but he recognized that the strength of Jarlaxle's sexual response to him was tied to the act of kindness he had given him. He would have never imagined such a connection could be made, but there it was – in the way Jarlaxle stroked him, the way he panted against his skin, the timbre of his voice. Entreri had no idea how to respond, though, except physically. His body did that for him, a shudder of pleasure sweeping through him, his hips shifting.

"Yes," Jarlaxle whispered. "You may move. But you don't need to." He stroked more firmly, faster, matching the pace of Entreri's hips. "I can do this for you, khal abbil." He teased Entreri's nipples as he spoke. Heat swept through him at imagining how good Entreri felt.

The increase of speed and pleasure tore a sharper, louder moan from Entreri, his back bowing upward again, and he lapsed into panting. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this sensitive. "Jarlaxle..." He was close, incredibly close. And the drow's whispers somehow urged him higher.

"Yes," Jarlaxle murmured gently. He kept up his pace and kissed Entreri's neck. His heart beat louder with anticipation.

The sudden swell, the sharp cresting, made Entreri squeeze Jarlaxle's thighs harder. His breath caught in his throat, his entire body tensing as he found release, and then he slumped against Jarlaxle, nearly boneless. A faint hum of appreciation vibrated in his throat.

Jarlaxle felt a sharp wave of emotion. He wiped his hand on his breeches and clutched Entreri tightly. He didn't know what this feeling was, but it choked him. If anyone came along to attack them in this moment, he would protect Entreri with his life.

Entreri laid his arms over Jarlaxle's, letting his eyes drift shut and enjoying the way Jarlaxle squeezed him in return. To him, the silence seemed peaceful. Also, Jarlaxle was equally sensual this way as the other, he decided. A faint smile returned to his lips.

Jarlaxle didn't know what Entreri felt in his moment, but he hoped it was a good feeling. He abruptly realized that this could have been a test, and Entreri's partnership with him might rest on his performance. That terrified him, but he managed to calm himself after a moment. Entreri wasn't moving, and no snide comments came. The assassin had to have decided he was good enough.

He rested his head against Entreri's shoulder, yearning for his sight to return so he could see his partner's face. He wanted to know what expression was on it. If he had earned one of Artemis Entreri's rare smiles.

At last, Entreri's relaxed body against him sank in, and Jarlaxle contented himself with this moment. Entreri's steady breathing was like a lullaby.

Entreri didn't particularly want to move, but he roused himself enough to clean up and right his clothes. He glanced around the oasis, which had a fair collection of palm trees and even some grass. He spied a spot where they could lie down and have a bit of shade. "Would you like to nap?"

Jarlaxle nodded. He would like to nap, if he could drift off. Part of him was still tense with heightened senses because of his blindness. He took longer than usual to form words. "Are you going to nap with me?"

"Yes." Entreri was an incredibly light sleeper most of the time, so he didn't think it would pose a danger to them if he napped as well. He carefully stood up, then took Jarlaxle's hand, pulling him to his feet.

Jarlaxle held Entreri's hand tightly. His legs were unusually wobbly, and he needed the assassin to guide him wherever they were going.

Entreri led him to the grassy spot, then used their cloaks as blankets. He guided Jarlaxle into sitting down, then settled behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist and laying them both down. He spooned Jarlaxle, leaving his arm around him.

Jarlaxle let himself be positioned, and being so gently cared for when he was blind – when he was foolish and made mistakes and was vulnerable – broke down something inside of him. A sharp fragment of Entreri's behavior pierced his chest. Tears slid sideways down his face, following the trend of gravity. They soaked through and filtered under the bandages over his eyes, trickled over the bridge of his nose, tickled his ear as they made their path to the ground.

How he had ever thought he was less lonely than Artemis Entreri he didn't know.

Entreri, unaware of the tears, simply pressed a kiss to the back of Jarlaxle's neck as he settled in. This had to have been one of the most pleasant trysts he'd had, and he found himself hoping this would not be the only time. A sigh escaped him, and he realized it was actually one of contentment. He wasn't sure he could remember having ever made such a sound before.

Jarlaxle clutched Entreri's arm around him and shifted back against the assassin. _Don't leave. If I have to be alone again, I'll go insane_.

Entreri pressed another kiss to his neck, enjoying the way Jarlaxle pressed closer. Yes, more of this would be welcome. "When our mission is over, let us indulge your hedonism by finding a top quality inn – the kind with private baths, room service, and extra large beds. Even I can agree that we deserve a bit rest."

Waves of cooling surprise and relief rolled over Jarlaxle at that suggestion. He nodded, suddenly sleepy. "I would like that."

Entreri made a sound of approval, then focused on systematically relaxing each part of his body, top-down. Once he was fully relaxed, he slipped into a light sleep, Jarlaxle tucked securely against him.

Feeling Entreri relax lulled Jarlaxle into a warm doze, their bodies somehow in sync.

More than anything, however, Jarlaxle napped because he felt sure there would be a tomorrow between them.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

* * *

Reclining on a divan in the spacious sitting room of their inn suite, taking in delicately perfumed air, Jarlaxle had almost everything he could want. He and Entreri had eaten a fine meal for supper, acquainting both of them with filet mignon; they had bathed in a luxuriously large bathtub. Jarlaxle was now dressed in a silk robe, and he even had his favorite wine in a bucket of ice on the table by his side.

But after paying for all these luxuries, Jarlaxle was preoccupied by the one thing he wanted that it was not possible to buy. Though the experience had at times been terrifying, he wished it could be a tenday ago, when he had been blind. Blindness had allowed him to experience a different side of Artemis Entreri. While he hadn't been able to see the assassin, the man had transformed.

However, two days ago, he had regained his sight.

Jarlaxle held in a sigh. He couldn't know if seeing made any difference. Had it been easier for him to trust Entreri, or had Entreri been more willing to act differently when he couldn't see? If either was the case, his recovery meant the loss of the thing he wanted.

Stepping in from the balcony, Entreri shut the double doors and trapped them, then glided across the room, taking the divan perpendicular to Jarlaxle's. Like Jarlaxle, he wore a silk robe, which was complimentary from the upscale inn, although his was black while Jarlaxle's was red. With a sigh, he poured himself a glass of wine and settled in. Although pampering himself felt odd, even he felt like the break had been earned. Crossing the Calim Desert and back had been an utter nightmare, given the three dead magic zones they'd ultimately found.

Taking a sip, Entreri considered Jarlaxle, who had gone without his eye patch tonight in celebration of having his eyesight back. Ever since they'd touched in the desert, Entreri had longed to touch Jarlaxle again - this time without blistering heat and sand in the way. However, being himself, he hadn't let on. His need to not overly indulge his carnal nature—and therefore weaken himself—was at war with the odd but powerful quality of their exchange. Even after a tenday, Entreri was still struck by how different it had been from his past experiences, although he wasn't sure in what way.

Jarlaxle smiled and picked up his half-full glass of wine. He took a sip, savored, and swallowed. "I know I have good taste in wine because you're willing to drink it." Entreri was not a wine drinker by nature, Jarlaxle had noticed.

Entreri actually chuckled. "It's a sweet wine, and you chilled it. That makes it tolerable." To his discomfort, he found himself wondering if their little tryst had been unusual for Jarlaxle as well. Certainly it wasn't the kind of question he would ever ask a lover—or potential lover in this case. Lovers were not something Entreri often took, both because of his loner tendencies and because of the gaping hole it could leave in his defenses. Granted, he'd never fallen in love with anyone—he couldn't even imagine doing so—but it also occurred to him that Jarlaxle wasn't a liability the way most people were. Jarlaxle could defend himself.

Jarlaxle grinned. "I'll keep that in mind." He realized to his own chagrin that he wasn't pursuing the topic he actually wanted to know. There was subtlety, and then there was avoidance. He was avoiding. But every time he thought about putting a question to Entreri, no matter how delicate, his chest clenched and he could hardly breathe.

How unlike his previous life this was. Males didn't need to ask about their performance; females duly informed them during or after sex had taken place. One was routinely judged. Jarlaxle thought of himself as confident, but he'd also become used to hearing a dispassionate breakdown of his actions.

 _Entreri liked it at the time. I know he did._

But...

Jarlaxle circled around the question again in his mind. _Will he ever want to give that to me again? Am I worthy of having that from him again?_

Because it was more than sex, and Jarlaxle was certain Entreri knew that.

Taking another sip of wine, Entreri forced himself to admit that he had been obsessed with Jarlaxle for the entire last tenday. He hated it when this happened to him, but occasionally it did: he got distracted by the idea of sex with a specific person. As soon as they'd finished, he'd wanted to repeat the experience, but somehow that desire had worked further under his skin than usual. He found his gaze hovering on Jarlaxle: the angles of his face, the grace of his body, the sensuality of little patches of ebony skin peeking out from the crimson silk robe.

Jarlaxle took another sip of his wine and set it down. He was despairing and amused at how Entreri seemed content to be silent. As usual. How was it that he had ended up attracted to someone so much his opposite? This didn't happen to him.

Or was it that he'd never noticed others' silences because he'd been content to fill any silences himself? He was shaken by that thought. Until a tenday ago, he hadn't known he'd isolated himself from others in the process of learning not to be vulnerable. Yes, he easily could have ignored others' silences.

In fact, he couldn't let the silence stand now. The lack of conversation prickled against his skin. "Losing my sight was interesting," he found himself saying. Jarlaxle internally flinched at the inane statement.

"People always claim your other senses compensate with time," Entreri said, "but I wonder if that's really so or if you simply pay more attention to the senses you have left."

The serious answer calmed Jarlaxle. "I don't know. I do know it was very intense..." He looked away. "Not only because of my lack of sight."

Entreri's body took immediate interest in this turn of the conversation. He took a small sip of wine. "Some people have themselves blindfolded during sex to heighten the experience," he murmured, "but you say it's more than that?" He wasn't sure Jarlaxle had been talking about sex, but his body was _absolutely_ talking about sex.

A pulse of heat took Jarlaxle by surprise at Entreri's casual mention of sex. "More," he murmured in agreement. He looked at Entreri with his peripheral vision. "Heightening an experience is a neutral effect. One would not wish to heighten all experiences. Only few. Very few."

Entreri found this answer to be odd, but he suspected it had to do with some kind of difference between drow and human sexual practices. "I don't use or do anything I wouldn't want heightened," he said dryly.

Jarlaxle finally turned his head and smiled at Entreri, freed by that declaration. "I know."

Since Entreri's body was already ten steps ahead of him, Entreri threw in the proverbial towel. Setting down his glass on the coffee table, he transferred to Jarlaxle's divan, telegraphing his interest.

Jarlaxle inhaled sharply. "Will you...may we..." He couldn't get it out that way. "I wish you to do what you did before," he whispered.

Entreri barely let him finish the sentence. Instantly his arms were around Jarlaxle, pulling their chests flush, and his lips found Jarlaxle's just as quickly, mouthing and tasting. A faint sweetness from the wine lingered there, but Entreri was more engrossed by the soft warmth of Jarlaxle's lips.

Afraid to let go, Jarlaxle wrapped his arms around Entreri's waist tightly. He knew it was unlikely Entreri would pull away, but with desperation quickening his pulse, he couldn't stand to take the chance. He gasped at the kiss and squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the sensation of it. He let Entreri guide him, the kiss slow and soft.

Entreri teased his tongue into Jarlaxle's mouth, trading caresses, his entire body enflamed with need. He'd wanted this, looked forward to this, even longed for this. He toppled Jarlaxle over onto the divan, settling between his thighs, his imagination already racing to the next step—his tongue and lips on Jarlaxle's bare skin. However, he lingered on their kiss a moment more, a shiver racing through him as Jarlaxle's tongue slipped into his mouth instead.

Jarlaxle dared to let slip a moan. Last time such a noise hadn't been offensive to the assassin. He wanted this to be like last time. Entreri's mouth was hot and sweet. He explored it gently, caressing. This position, Entreri on top of him, asked him to trust. He did. Only if Entreri caused him pain would he retract that trust.

An answering moan escaped Entreri as Jarlaxle caressed and explored. With some regret, he broke the kiss, but he wanted to taste Jarlaxle's skin again. He kissed his way over Jarlaxle's jaw and down his throat, lapping and sucking as he went, Jarlaxle's body hot against his own. By this point, the drow had to feel his erection pressing against him as Entreri's body drank in the pleasure.

Jarlaxle moaned and then cried out, arching. His skin tingled wildly where Entreri's mouth had been. Entreri's enthusiasm for using his mouth took Jarlaxle by surprise all over again. Heat rushed up to his ears and down to his groin at the same time, making him dizzy. "Artemis..." He tightened his hands on his partner's back.

A soft moan met Jarlaxle's reaction, which only stoked Entreri's arousal higher. He kissed his way back up Jarlaxle's throat, then continued upward to his ears, first sucking on the earlobe. Then he traced the edge up to tip, which he captured with his lips and teased with his tongue.

Jarlaxle's breaths hitched at the kisses up his throat. He squirmed and moaned sharply at Entreri's mouth on his earlobe. His heart pounded, and he was achingly hard with anticipation. Entreri's lips moved upwards, and Jarlaxle felt himself leaking. The torrent of pleasure when Entreri licked the tip of his ear was so strong he almost came. A loud cry burst out of him, the assassin bringing him to sobbing.

The power of Jarlaxle's reaction alone made Entreri leak, and he slowly lapped Jarlaxle's ear, worshipping the skin there. He wasn't sure he'd ever had such a vocal lover, and it left him achingly hard. "Yes," he whispered against Jarlaxle's ear.

Jarlaxle wailed at that approving whisper. Pleasure whiplashed through his body, and he didn't know if he could hold his body back a second time. He grabbed for his self-control and couldn't keep it for more than a second. Sobbing, and with his blood singing in his ears, he came. Bliss obliterated his coordination, making him feel messy. His body became hypersensitive, flooding him with details: Entreri's hardness against him, the sweat beading on his skin, the light of the sunset washing through the window, the smell of lavender in the room. Entreri's breathing. Entreri's weight. Finally, he emptied out and fell limp, his body utterly relaxed.

Entreri's heart thudded in his chest. He wasn't sure he'd ever made someone come so quickly, but he couldn't complain. Oddly, he did find that he hoped Jarlaxle would be up for a second round later. For the time being, he rested atop Jarlaxle, nuzzling his neck.

The affection, as if he deserved such a thing after losing control, struck through Jarlaxle so strongly that his throat constricted. He could hardly breathe. His vision was still blurry with pleasure, but it got blurrier. He recalled weeping after his first experience with Entreri and couldn't stand to do that again. All he could do was close his hand around the back of Entreri's robe, taking a loose handful of silk.

 _Why are you...Why..._ Jarlaxle felt a near unbearable strength of emotion. Whatever it was, he could barely physically contain it. It wasn't a negative one, like fear or shame. But he was terrified by how powerful it was.

Entreri hummed faintly in his throat, enjoying the sensation of Jarlaxle clutching at his robe and back. He'd always liked that from his lovers, and it prompted him to press a kiss against the hot skin of Jarlaxle's neck. Because of their earlier experience, he didn't doubt Jarlaxle would bring him relief after he'd recovered from his orgasm, so he skipped straight to the next stage: "Again later?"

"Yes," Jarlaxle said, relieved that he could get the words out normally. Entreri's voice was beautiful. He'd always thought so, but right now it seemed more beautiful than it ever had been before.

"Excellent." Entreri didn't even bother to hide how pleased that made him. In fact, he was more pleased than carnal pleasure alone could account for, but he didn't stop to dwell on it and just went with it. After all this time spent with Jarlaxle, he was learning the value of sometimes just following a path without micro-planning every step.

Jarlaxle recovered enough to wrap his arms around Entreri's shoulders. He nuzzled the assassin's neck and planted a gentle kiss there. "What can I do to please you?"

Although Entreri could think of a few things that would work, he had no idea what kinds of things male drow did for one another or what Jarlaxle would be comfortable with. "Well, what you did before will work, unless there is something else you'd like to try."

Jarlaxle didn't know what to offer. Various images flashed through his mind. Most of them hadn't felt very good when he'd done them, but he had been told they were pleasurable for the other person, and Entreri was different from all the others. It seemed possible to enjoy anything.

He sided with caution. "I will touch you the way I did before, if this will please you."

The mere memory made heat surge to Entreri's groin. "Certainly." Climbing off of Jarlaxle, he offered him a hand up and then retreated to one of the beds with him, assuming it would be easier to get situated there. "Shall I sit in front of you again?"

Jarlaxle stripped and wiped himself off the best he could. "Yes." He sat down with one plump goose feather pillow behind his back, and placed another in front of him between his legs, feeling it should make Entreri more comfortable.

Giving him a wicked little smile, Entreri slid off his robe, letting it pool on the floor. For a moment, the man stood fully naked before Jarlaxle, letting himself be seen, and then he slipped onto the satin sheets, leaning back against both Jarlaxle and the pillow. A little bead of moisture welled up on his tip, evidence of his anticipation.

Jarlaxle felt warmly aroused at Entreri's need to reveal himself and at the beauty of his partner's lithe, muscular form. The assassin leaning back against him was comfortable and intimate. He wrapped his arms around Entreri's waist and nuzzled his partner's neck. This was satisfying in the same new, unusual way it had been before. He ran his hands down Entreri's body slowly.

The way Jarlaxle's lips brushed his neck sent a shiver through Entreri, and he closed his eyes at the sensation of Jarlaxle's warm hands tracing over his skin. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized it mattered to him that someone as powerful, intelligent, clever, and beautiful as Jarlaxle found him appealing, but he didn't let himself dwell on the observation. Instead, he opened his eyes again so he could watch Jarlaxle's delicate, ebony hands touch him.

Jarlaxle felt the shiver. A punch of emotion exploded in his stomach. He hummed in the back of his throat and kissed Entreri's neck, mouthing gently. At the same time, he stroked the tops of Entreri's thighs, feeling warm skin. He slipped his hands down, stroking up along the inside of his partner's legs, feeling the heat increase. Finally his fingertips brushed Entreri's erection. He took in a breath.

He opened his eyes to see, watching a bead of moisture well up at his feather-soft touches.

A shudder of pleasure shot through Entreri - a mix of the kiss and the touches. Again he was struck by the power of his response and wondered what made Jarlaxle different, better. Letting the question slip away from him, he immersed himself in the sensations, his erection aching with his arousal. Suddenly it seemed the most erotic thing in the universe to have Jarlaxle's intimate touch.

Jarlaxle felt his partner's relaxation and smiled against Entreri's neck. He carefully licked up to a pulse point and sucked gently. At the same time his hand gripped Entreri's hardness lightly and pumped. He palmed Entreri's tip and spread the wetness down his partner's length. His experience was different than in the desert; seeing assured him that he could do everything correctly.

A soft, deep moan escaped Entreri's lips, his pulse jumping as Jarlaxle's lips and hand captured him in the same moment. The two pleasure points seemed to resonate between each other, and his lower back arched faintly. Just seeing Jarlaxle's hand stroking him sent sparks of arousal shooting through him, and he gripped the side of Jarlaxle's thigh with one hand.

Jarlaxle let out a quiet sound of appreciation at Entreri's reaction and tightened his grip a little, continuing to stroke slowly. He didn't want this to be over quickly. Holding Entreri was too precious. _Imagine all the people who would have died for this_. He was lucky. He could never have dared think himself deserving.

Realizing that Jarlaxle meant to draw out the experience, Entreri moaned again, more beads of moisture welling up on his tip. The sheer luxury of having Jarlaxle slowly tease him into orgasm made his heart pound, the pulse echoing in his erection. His hand squeezed Jarlaxle's thigh as his back arched a fraction more; gods, but Jarlaxle's hand felt good upon him. A strange power infused not only the sensation but the situation, as though some second impulse or need or message underlay the intimate touch, and Entreri's body buzzed with it without knowing for sure what it was.

Jarlaxle moaned and lavished attention with his tongue and lips to the back of Entreri's neck. His other hand glided into place, stroking Entreri's balls softly. Being able to touch someone so gently, to be allowed to access his definition of respect, affected him deeply. He shared this experience with Entreri. They were doing something together, not defending opposite positions.

A sharp gasp escaped Entreri, followed by a sharper moan. Having his neck kissed and sucked would have been enough, but the way Jarlaxle caressed his balls made shudders race through his body. "Yes," he hissed, unable to remain quiet, his nipples hardening with the flood of pleasure. He parted his thighs further, giving Jarlaxle more access, and felt the beads of moisture escape his tip and run down his length.

Warmth washed through Jarlaxle at that. "I will," he whispered. He massaged Entreri's balls gently with the extra freedom he had and stroked a little faster, more firmly. Entreri was hot against him.

Entreri's head collapsed back against Jarlaxle's shoulder, and he didn't even try to hold in his sounds of pleasure, moaning with each stroke. His hips shuddered, warning him he couldn't last much longer, and he panted, losing his breath. "Jarlaxle..."

"Yes," Jarlaxle said, emotion tugging at his chest. He didn't stop. As Entreri's pleasure heightened, he went slightly faster, accommodating the movement of Entreri's hips. He felt Entreri's balls tighten.

"Oh, gods!" Entreri's grip on Jarlaxle's thigh tightened, his lower back arching sharply as the added pleasure struck him. With a gasp, he came, and even before he had fully come back down, he realized he wouldn't—couldn't—let go of Jarlaxle. He slumped back against him, his free hand gripping Jarlaxle's other thigh almost possessively.

Jarlaxle wiped his hand and wrapped his arms around Entreri, shifting subtly to fit their bodies together. He shut his eyes and drank in the perfection. An emotion, recognizable this time, welled up inside of him. He'd never felt it towards another bipedal creature before: affection. He wanted to stay fitted together with Entreri. He wanted to pet Entreri. He wanted Entreri to feel good.

Entreri tolerated the position for a few minutes, the shifted around, toppling them over onto the bed and embracing Jarlaxle face-to-face. A lingering impulse to kiss Jarlaxle took over, and he gave in, capturing Jarlaxle's lips and telegraphing the sudden swirl of emotions inside of him—a complicated mix of positive feelings he barely could name. Despite his lack of experience, he realized he wanted to make Jarlaxle his lover in a way he'd never before attempted: someone who lasted more than a few one-night stands. Someone who was also a friend. Someone who perhaps might stay around longer than a few tendays.

Jarlaxle moaned and gladly reciprocated, mouthing Entreri's lips and stroking his partner's hair. He wove their bodies together again, entwining their legs. Entreri's heartbeat pumped out a cheerful beat, giving Jarlaxle extra information at this close range. His own body responded fundamentally to the sound, flooding him with giddiness. He was safe and happy in a way he'd never expected to be.

When Entreri finally pulled back, he pressed his forehead to Jarlaxle's. "Again later?" Then he specified: "Again tomorrow as well?"

"Again later, again tomorrow, again after that," Jarlaxle whispered.

"Good," Entreri said simply, pressing a quick kiss to Jarlaxle's lips as though to seal a deal.

Jarlaxle gave him an answering kiss.

With that, Entreri relaxed, feeling as though he'd secured what he needed to, at least to the best of his ability at the moment.


End file.
